


need a little sweetness in my life

by BigScaryDinos



Category: Stockholm Syndrome - Richard Rider
Genre: Childishness, Drabble, Gun Violence, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, No Smut, Not Beta Read, Powerpuff Girls References, Sugar, Violent Thoughts, cartoons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:55:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24598621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BigScaryDinos/pseuds/BigScaryDinos
Summary: The prompt?"All I can think about is fucking Pip being obsessed with some stupid cartoon...And like him laying on the floor eating sugary as shit cereal watching cartoons hah."Plot less about hot fall days and merciless obsessions.
Relationships: Lindsay Brown / Phillip "Pip" Valentine
Kudos: 3





	need a little sweetness in my life

_ October 2007 _

Sometime around Halloween the kid becomes obsessed, totally balls to the wall in love with America. Lindsay suspects it’s been brewing for the last nineteen years of the kids life; but it comes all to the breaking point in October. Lindsay just so happens to be on the receiving end of such a wonderful moment in Phillip Valentine history.

Maybe it was willful blindness, maybe a touch of pure ignorance because overall the kid isn’t just called a kid because he’s _oh so_ mature for his age, but Lindsay didn’t really even notice it happening at first. It was just a package here or there in the mail, American chips (not crisps. Oh no. **Chips**. Middles-worth, Pringles, Ridges. BBQ. Sour cream and chive. The most nasty things Lindsay’s seen or smelled). He stockpiled secretly American beauty supplies; lotions, creams. Nail polish only available in the states in foul colors, but it was all one at a time. Until suddenly on a Wednesday when Lindsay arrived home the whole front lawn seemed flooded with empty brown boxes of various sizes. Not so much one at a time anymore.   


At first there was anger, then there was just nothing. It was typical, Lindsay thought. Typical of Valentine to go nuts on a Mastercard and indulge in Ebay while Lindsay was either asleep in bed, at work, or just not paying attention. Typical. He probably needed the attention honestly. Pip was like a puppy or a baby, crying and crying until he got what he wanted and if crying didn’t work a tantrum would do just fine. This was a spending tantrum. In that moment Lindsay made up his mind - he wouldn’t feed the beast.  _ Couldn’t _ feed the beast. He would simply walk into the house, take off his shoes, make himself a cup of coffee, maybe have some leftover pizza. He wouldn’t say hello, how was your day. He would continue his blissful ignorance. 

That plan stopped short at the door. 

It was honestly the little things, living with somebody who never really left the house, seeing him every moment made the smallest things of life stand out - or maybe it was the unadmitted love and attraction but it was still there. The hints and cues and quirks that you notice about a person. As much as you can ignore the hoard of shit from overseas you can’t just ignore them, the whole person, body and soul. 

Pip’s toenails were always black. He hated feet - even his own and so painting them a gross and dark color was just how he dealt with it.  _ Don’t have to see ‘em .  _ He would say as he touched up his toes every now and again, smearing the paint on the skin reckless and eager to get the job done. Today they were pink, green, and blue. A rainbow of just three colors dotted and flecked with left over black he couldn’t be arsed to pick off. His hair, normally strewn about his face like a man post hurricane or tied up in one messy tail, today was in two scrawny bunches. He sat belly flat on the floor, his feet kicked up behind him swinging in the air as he watched the TV, the volume actually much louder than it should be. 

_ What the actual fuck.  _

It was some cartoon. Three girls in the previously observed toenail colors were on screen, flying at comic speeds to fight - a talking monkey? Pip didn’t turn, didn’t even acknowledge Lindsay’s arrival from work. Just swinging his feet, one hand propping himself up the other bringing a plastic yellow spoon from a metal mixing bowl to his face. 

Lindsay waited a tick. 

“You’re disgusting.” Lindsay doesn’t know what else to say, the kid doesn’t even turn around, the chomp of teeth against sugary white cereal is somehow louder than the announcer on the TV. It echos inside the room, comic book loud. Lindsay can picture a bubble “CHOMP” spewing from in front of Valentine’s face - all red and white and pointed at the edges. 

“So onff hargan three dray isth shhaved” The kid swallows here for a second, “Thanks to the power-puff girls.” His American accent is becoming disturbingly accurate to the blaring over childish announcer. He smacks his lips. He sucks his teeth. His feet kick and flop with his toes curling in on themselves. 

Lindsay wants to shoot him just to see what would happen. He imagines he’s like a zombie or a robot at this stage of the game and would either leak oil from the hole or just sputter for a few minutes before he keeps going. Instead he listens to Pip hum the tune that plays over the credits. The TV whirs, something inside it protesting. They don’t make shit cartoons or sickly sweet breakfast food around here like they do in America. Pip finally turns, flipping himself onto his back and looking at Lindsay, still standing in the open doorway, shoes still on his feet like he wants to bolt. 

“Oy! Wanna keep standin’ there or wanna come say ‘ello?” 

Lindsay debates running again. He could pick up and leave, take his car and pull some money out the bank - his real money. He could buy a burner and never give out his number. He could get on a plane and end up in a different country and start a new life with some strangers in a new town someplace eating fresh fruit and drinking goat's milk. Instead he takes the ten steps to cross to the telly and leans down, his back cracks. Pip tastes like pure sugar out of the bag. There’s still floating bits inside the mixing bowl. 

“Gonna rot your teeth like that little man.”

“Eh, dunno. Gummin’ you every night seems like a good enough plan for me.” 

Pip winks, the next episode starts with a black screen then that blasting announcer again. 

“Sugar. Spice. And everything nice.”

Pip flops back onto his stomach, his fingers already digging in his bowl for the spoon as he finishes the lines in time with the show. 

Lindsay wonders if he died on the last heist and just went to hell. 

**Author's Note:**

> for my love <3


End file.
